


Listen (to my silent love you)

by sammyspreadyourwings



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Caretaking, Couch Cuddles, Dom John Deacon, Dom/sub Play, Established Relationship, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Illnesses, M/M, Multi, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Non-Sexual Submission, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, Sub Brian May
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 22:51:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20235688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammyspreadyourwings/pseuds/sammyspreadyourwings
Summary: Brian is getting over a bad case of the flu, too bad his submissive urges didn't get the memo.





	Listen (to my silent love you)

**Author's Note:**

> I promised myself I'd try to write a non-sexual sub play story, which I eventually did and here it is. It's certainly different than what I'm used to writing, but let me know what you guys think!

Brian is never sure what pushes the urge to the surface if its stress or how he’s wired. All he knows is that one minute he’ll be the furthest thing from the mood, arguing in the studio or doing something as menial as laundry and the next thing he knows is there’s a desperate feeling to get on his knees and to _just be good. _It doesn’t make sense, but with three partners more than willing to go along with it he can’t find that he complains that much.

The sex is fantastic, too.

Except sex is the furthest thing from his mind. His throat is still raw from attempting to cough up a lung and frequent trips to the toilet to get sick. He’s achy, and he hasn’t gotten much more than twenty-eight hours sleep this past week because he just couldn’t get comfortable. The thought of sex makes him wince and curl up, but the urge is lodged in his brain.

He wants because he’s sure the high will at least make him more comfortable for a few hours and he’s healthy enough to participate. Although he doubts he’ll stay interested, his focus is barely present and he’s sure his partners aren’t going to let him do something that strenuous.

Freddie was about to climb up a wall with worry and Roger kept mentioning he should go to a hospital. Granted, he couldn’t keep any food down for a good three days, but the important part was that he eventually was able to.

Wait. What was he thinking about? Right, trying to figure out how to get the urge out of his head without having to be appealing for sexy times. Brian groans, and rolls over to his side. His eyes swim in the dizziness.

Is anyone even home? He shuffles towards the edge of the bed, slowly swinging his legs over the side. When he doesn’t tip forward, he reaches for the nightstand. It never hurts to be prepared and grips the silk bandana. He stands shakily. Wanting to be useful (_wanting to be a good boy _his brain adds) he picks up the empty medicine tablet packages and the few cups and bowls that have collected in the room for the past few days.

The TV is on, which means someone is home. Brian steps quietly, in case the other person is taking an early afternoon nap. He peeks around the corner and spots John resting on the couch, remote nearby and staring avidly at some drama.

He turns around, and Brian looks down afraid he’s been caught.

“Bri, baby, why are you up?” John stands.

Brian raises the bowls in his hands. John’s eyes predictably catch on the bandana he’s still holding.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re still shaking.”

He knows it isn’t but the urge won’t let him get any rest if he doesn’t. Brian looks down again and bites his lips, trying to think about how to phrase it. The others _don’t _get urges like this, John doesn’t suddenly feel the need to control everything (well, he does anyway but that’s because the rest of them are so distracted with themselves and focused on other things that a lot of basic things slip through).

“Babe, what’s going through your head?”

Brian clears his throat, winces at the scrape, and winces more at the roughness to his voice, “I need, can’t rest…”

John tilts his head, “is that what woke you up?”

He shrugs. Maybe, since he’s had the feeling since he woke up. Although he’s wavering on his feet, and it’s a much higher possibility he’ll just fall into exhausted unconsciousness.

“It’s been a while too,” John mumbles, “okay, we’ll figure something out, baby. Give me the bandana.”

Brian can’t without dropping the dishes. John seems to figure that out after a second and pulls the silk loose. It unfurls to reveal the square of navy blue with embroidered yellow stars. After refolding it, John steps towards him and wraps the cloth around his neck. The shaking in his arms slows, John steps back. His eyes are still soft.

“Go set those in the sink,” John’s voice has taken on his bedroom tone, “don’t wash them. Then come back to the couch.”

He nods.

“Words, babe.”

“Yes, Sir.”

John smiles and pats him on the cheek. Brian is quick to comply with the command. He hates leaving dishes in the sink, especially when the sink is now overflowing with at least three days’ worth. It wasn’t the order though, and his brain takes on that familiar fuzziness it does whenever the bandana is around his neck.

John is back on the couch, angled so that his legs are spread open. Brian wanders around the side opposite to John.

“Good boy,” John replies, “get us a few blankets. Don’t want you getting sick again.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He almost wishes he has the energy to be a little brattier to work John up. Instead, he shuffles listlessly over to the closet in the hallway where they keep what Freddie deems the monstrosities. Brian grabs two, and one of their small summer pillows.

“Set them on the top, my good boy, that’s it,” John coos, “how are you feeling?”

“Tired,” he replies.

“Ah,” John frowns, “with me.”

Brian follows after John, whining that he doesn’t get to curl up in John’s lap. John stops in the hallway and smooths back his hair which is even more unruly and sweat-sticky.

“My precious boy,” John mumbles, “let’s get you comfortable, hm.”

“Yes, Sir,” Brian sighs.

Being comfortable in his own skin sounds wonderful. Really he can’t remember the last time that he did, considering the three days leading up to the start of his illness he felt it building and had been bitchy. John strokes through his hair again, tugging him gently in the direction of the bathroom.

“Strip and sit,” John commands.

Brian waits until John leaves the room before pulling off the sweaty t-shirt. The cool air on his skin makes him shiver involuntarily. He tosses it into the dirty bin. Slowly he sits down, already tired of standing, and slides his long pajama pants off. They join the top in the bin. The bandana is left alone.

John is back in the room only a moment after that. He’s carrying clean clothes in one hand and a container in the other.

“Fred won’t mind if we take some of his dry shampoo, hm?”

Brian shrugs, unsure of if Freddie would really mind. John sets the clothes on the counter before digging under it to grab a washcloth and one of their spare combs.

“Turn around, that’s a good boy.”

John gently runs the comb through the back of his head. It snags and pulls, he lets out breathy sighs. They both know what would be happening if he wasn’t still ill. It takes John twice as long as normal to get the majority of the knots out, Brian can tell that his hair is currently fewer curls and more a frizzball on the top of his head. It feels better so he doesn’t mind too much. He feels the aerosol spray hit his head and John works it through with efficiency.

“See, doesn’t that feel better, babe?”

“Yes, Sir,” Brian sighs.

The tap water turns on and at John’s careful nudging he turns back around to face the bassist. He’s wetting the rag.

“Check the temperature for me? How are you feeling, feverish?”

Brian shakes his head, he feels hot but the fever broke last night (at least that’s what Roger proclaimed in great relief). He sticks his hand in the water and finds that it’s pleasantly cool on his skin.

“This is good, Sir.”

John dips the rag in it, and then again with the same quick efficiency he wipes Brian’s face, neck, back, well everywhere basically until the sweat is mostly gone. A shower will make him feel better, but the thought of standing for so long makes him dizzy and they’ve already learned he can’t stay in the water for too long because he overheats or cools down too quickly.

Trust John to know how to make things better. Brian sighs dreamily, slipping a little further under the fog. John pats his cheek, and Brian looks up sluggishly. He stares at John’s searching eyes.

“Huh.”

Brian leans into the touch, not too concerned with whatever epiphany has happened in front of him.

“You’re such a perfect boy,” John mumbles into a kiss on the crown of his head, “you’ve been so wonderful. Letting me take care of you, not complaining this time.”

He flushes in disappointment in himself at how he acted earlier in the week. John slaps his cheek lightly and tuts.

“It’s okay, you can be bratty when you don’t feel well. You still aren’t as bad as Roger.”

Brian smiles, more at the tone than the words.

“Now let’s get you into some clean clothes. Sounds good yeah? Soft and warm.”

He hums as John kisses across the bridge of his cheek and then the tip of his nose. When John steps away Brian whines. Why is John – no he’s back.

“See I’m here,” John mumbles, “arms up.”

Brian complies with a small wince, his muscles still tight from disuse. A soft t-shirt slips over his head. It doesn’t feel like his, but rather the giant shirt Freddie picked up from somewhere that became their comfort shirt. He sighs happily. John gives him another quick kiss on his temple before he slides down his body.

“Here we are.”

He stands as John does, pulling the too long flannel pants up.

“How do you feel?”

“Better.”

He does. Everything still hurts, but it’s dulled down with the fuzziness of being taken care of by John.

“Doing so well, letting me take care of you.”

John grips his wrist gently and tugs him from the bathroom.

“Now we’re going to lay on the couch and rest,” John orders.

Brian nods and follows happily. John lays down first, stopping him with a firm hand on his chest. He shifts on his feet while John gets comfortable again.

“Come here, baby.”

He wastes no time in climbing to rest against John’s chest. John pulls the blankets over them and shimmies down the couch so they’re both mostly flat. Brian sighs contentedly as he settles his ear over John’s chest.

“What do you want to watch? Or do you want to sleep?”

“Wanna be up,” he mumbles, “there’s supposed to be a documentary on badgers on.”

John laughs, “okay.”

He watches the channels flick with slightly blurred vision. Finally, he hears the familiar noises of a badger snuffling. Brian opens his eyes a little wider and watches as two young ones roll around and play with each other.

“They are kind of cute,” John rubs his back.

“See.”

John’s hand raises and tugs on his hair with barely any force, “don’t be smug.”

His hand slips down to thread his fingers through John’s. They watch the rest of the documentary, which ends up referencing a few badger rescue groups that they’re both very familiar with. Brian shifts a little so that he can see the next documentary.

“Oh? Did you call the discovery channel?” John asks, “have them program a day with all your favorite things, baby?”

He shrugs, “dunno.”

A badly rendered meteor whizzes by a planet before being caught by the planet’s gravity. It’s all things he knows, granted, but it’s interesting to see how other people explain it. The program is a few years old judging by the information they claim they don’t have.

“Does space really look like that?” John asks at a picture of a nebula.

“Hm? No. Gasses are invisible but by using frequencies of lights photos can color it and determine what gasses are present.”

He pauses, “and a lot of space doesn’t have enough light hitting it to give it color.”

“I see.”

“You wouldn’t.”

John snorts and resumes stroking up and down his back. Brian hums in comfort.

“I’m back!” Freddie slams the door open.

“Watch the plaster!” John yells.

Brian whines at the volume.

“Sorry baby.”

Freddie waltzes into the living room. Brian squirms as John moves to turn to face their singer. He feels Freddie lean over the back of the couch.

“Ah, look who has joined the world again,” Freddie grips his hand.

He rolls over just enough to gaze at Freddie through the corner of his eyes.

“Did you two have fun?” Freddie’s eyes linger on the bandana.

“I’ll explain later,” John says, “but no.”

Freddie walks around the couch, “scoot, what are we watching?”

Both Brian and John lift their feet up as Freddie slides on the far end of the couch. He thumbs the arch of Brian’s foot, who jumps but then relaxes.

“Where’d you lose Roger at?”

“He ran into a classmate, said I should go ahead and he’d catch up,” Freddie’s hand moves up to his calf, squeezing and kneading.

“Fred, you wanker! I said you could leave the store!”

“There he is!”

Brian tilts his face into John, knowing Roger is going to yell. John is ahead of him though by covering his ears.

“Roger, quiet!”

“Oh, is Bri asleep?” Roger asks at a much lower volume.

“No, we don’t need you screeching though,” John says.

Brian sees Roger poke his head over the back of the couch, “heya, B. Feeling better?”

“Mm.”

“He’s been awake all afternoon, so I think so.”

Roger pouts at the full couch, “where am I supposed to go?”

No one answers and Roger gets huffy, “wait why does Bri have that on?”

“We had a moment,” John says lightly, “like I told Fred, I’ll explain later.”

Roger pouts, “fine. I’ll just sit on the floor.”

Brian offers a tired smile when Roger grins at him for where he kneels in front of the couch staring at Brian’s face. His blue eyes are sparkling with happiness.

“Show is the other way,” Brian says.

“Eh, better view this way,” Roger glances up to John, “want to go to the bedroom?”

Here is comfortable, but it would be a pain if he falls asleep, not only for him but for John who is currently his body pillow. Brian hums not quite sure what he wants to do.

“Go with Rog,” John orders.

“Hey!” Freddie frowns.

“Someone needs to make dinner.”

Roger is already pulling Brian to his feet, slowly for him. The room doesn’t spin quite so much as he stands this time.

“And Brian?”

John waits until he turns around, “you’re going to eat.”

The fuzziness which had receded while lounging in John’s lap comes back. He nods because he doesn’t think he can force his voice to work. The urge he woke up with has returned to the spot in his brain where it rests, but he kind of enjoys this idea of John bossing him around while they’re going about their day.

Not all the time though.

“Come,” Roger says.

It doesn’t have the same power or control that John’s voice does, but Brian allows himself to be lead by Roger back to their bedroom.

“Are you really feeling alright?”

He nods, “yes, Rog.”

“Good. Good,” Roger wraps around his chest, “was starting to miss you, and this.”

Brian smiles. Despite the still lingering sickness, today was a good day.

**Author's Note:**

> Short and to the point. I mostly wanted to explore the dynamic. I didn't get too deep into it because it didn't feel right with the scenario, but the outcome isn't too bad.   
As always, leave your thoughts and comments below or come talk to me on tumblr.  
And yes, I'm getting a lot out mostly because Uni starts again next monday and I won't have free time.


End file.
